The Battle of Trinsic

This is an old old thing I wrote in the early days of UO. It’s a write-up of an ingame event I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time for!


A rambling (and true!) account by Arkenor of Britain.

I had awakened early that morn. My arcane studies had been halted by the lack of reagents in the shops I frequent. This no doubt due to the bacon-fed coves who purchase in bulk only to sell at marked up prices from their stalls. It had occurred to me, while falling into Morpheus’ grasp the night before, that the old mage who lived in the secret valley nearby might be able to provide what I needed.

A few hundred gold I took from my stash, and hid it away from the boungnipper, within the folds of my cloak. Too oft had I been robbed in recent days. In the countryside I should be safe from pickpockets at least, if not the brigands who dwell in that locale. Leaving my key with Jed, my loyal servant, I set out for the secret valley.

‘Tis not a great distance from my home. I dwell near the small mountains we locals call the twin peaks, Mount Courage, and Mount Truth, south-east from Trinsic. In the southern climes spring comes early, and there was already a faint aroma from the few brave plants which dare flower so soon. There was, as is ,alas, normal for the region, very little wildlfe to be seen. I detected the tracks of an alligator, where its tail had drawn its characteristic furrow in the soft ground. Tailor or not, I decided to leave it be.

As I approached the west side of the mountain which holds the valley I came upon a spore less welcome. Lizardmen, at least two, had passed recently. Envisaging an interesting, yet ultimately victorious and indeed profitable battle I followed the trail.

The lizardmen were not alone however. With them, somewhat unusually I thought, was an orc. No matter, thought I, and I plunged in, my halberd spinning death to those minions of evil. The first Lizardman I took down fairly easily, despite the attacks of his comrade. As I turned on the other though, a red-robed man broke through the undergrowth, and charged towards us.

I was glad of this unforseen assistance, as I had noticed while fighting, that the tracks I had been following had been joined by several more. He spoke words of power, and bolts of eldritch energy burst forth, towards me!

I have never been one for fighting mages. I fled, feeling a certain amount of pain. I was not too concerned though. Years of being outclassed has taught me how to run faster then almost anyone. This was not a normal escape. As I outpaced my foe, another group of orcs burst out from a ditch. I swerved neatly, only to find myself surrounded by more red-robed mages.

My survival I put down to the fact that they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. As I crashed past them I expected to feel more bolts hit me, yet I emerged unscathed. It was as if they were waiting for orders, and my swift arrival and departure had not granted them time enough.

My mind cast back, as minds are wont to do in times of stress, to a crier I had heard in town a few days before. He had spoken, somewhat predictably, of dark times ahead. More specifically, he had mentioned that Southern Britannia was in danger from a group named the Zog cabal. I may or not be correct, but I have referred to these red mages as the Zog cabal ever since.

At last the walls of Trinsic came into view. I charged through the main gate, heading straight for the bank, for I knew that would have the highest density of adventurers.

“People of Trinsic, please listen to me!”, I shouted. “The Zog cabal is massing an army near the secret valley! Prepare to defend the city!”. Unexpectedly, I wasn’t completely ignored. A few souls, after inquiring for extra details, set off around town shouting the same warning. Mages sent requests for help to our neighbouring cities. I have since heard that a similar assault, by undead this time, was happening in Vesper, but others can speak of that.

The city alerted I started back to the main gate. Near there I noticed a green-robed seer. I have never seen one before or since, but I am told that they tend to harbinge trouble. I ran up and informed the gentleman of the danger. He nodded sagely, and told me dark times were ahead. Now, I already knew this. I had rather hoped he might have had something a little more constructive to say, but I suppose they are seers rather than sayers or doers.

Of what happened next I am sure you will hear many accounts. The army attacked at the main gate, and managed to force its way into the city by sheer weight of numbers. I am not sure if they used the other gate also, or had magical means of transportation. Certainly, several bands of monsters wandered about the city for some time before being apprehended.

At least thirty of Britannia’s bravest warriors and mages slowly pushed the army back. Although I do not approve of the summoning of Daemons, for once I was grateful for their presence. There was a fine level of cooperation. Healing and aid were handed out by all, to all, without thought of self. I have never been prouder of my land, than when seeing the City of Honour deport itself so correctly.

After the initial force had been repulsed, I joined up with a brave group, to mop up the survivors. If we had had any idea as to how many there were we might have had second thought. It seemed as many had not attacked as had attacked. Had they all attacked in force, Trinsic would be lost. We can then, thank poor generalship on the opposing side for our victory. Should they ever improve in their tactics, as they surely will, then our cities will be in danger indeed.

I did hear that the command post had been found, and something of interest had lain within, but I have no details on this. Trinsic and our neighbours must remain alert to this threat. At least, when next the enemy attack, the city now has enough ringmail shirts to supply every man, woman, and child in the city, not to mention red robes. I am, I’m afraid, a cucumber to the last.

Arkenor of Britain, Guildmaster of the Purple Lodge

Note: Cucumber was an Elizabethan term for tailor. Due to the fact that in the summer no-one bought clothes, and they could only afford to eat cucumber, apparently.

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